"You're... that Magic Potion Alchemist from Shadow Moon?"
The Warlock recognized him, a look of utter astonishment on his face.
Ian looked up at the Warlock, and an almost imperceptible glint of gold flashed in his eyes.
It was thinner than a strand of hair, formless and intangible, yet it carried a condensed, crystalline coldness.
The sliver of golden light shot from the depths of Ian's pupils, so fast it seemed like an illusion.
In an instant, it crossed the thirty-meter distance and pierced the center of the Warlock's brow.
The Warlock's body went rigid.
The astonishment, the confusion... everything on his face froze.
His open mouth hung agape, and the bloody light at the tip of his Magic Staff instantly dimmed.
He struggled to blink, as if trying to confirm something, then his pupils began to dilate, his gaze rapidly turning vacant.
His body swayed, his knees buckled, and he pitched forward.
His Magic Staff slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground with a CLANG.
